INTERVIEW WITH A HUNTER
by Chick Feed
Summary: Three days of violence & slaughter gave the world a shocking truth; monsters are real! Hunters strode defiantly into the public arena, determined to protect their fellow humans, sacrificing their anonymity. When the world demanded to know more, the Hunters held a secret ballot, selecting a spokesperson to present to the media. Full summary inside...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** \- I don't own them, but it's fun to imagine!

 **For you, ncsupernatfan, Happy Birthday my much loved sister *** _ **kisses**_ ***  
** INTERVIEW WITH A HUNTER  
 _Three days of violence and slaughter - How the world discovered the shocking truth, monsters are real. How Hunters came to sacrifice their anonymity, striding defiantly into the public arena, instantly attracting attention, not least from the politicians and the media. The world demanded to know more. In response, Hunters held a secret ballot, each writing down the name of the Hunter they felt could handle the onerous task of media spokesperson. All agreed, whoever got most nominations, got the job..._

 **Chapter 1  
** **PROLOGUE  
** -oOo-

It came without even the vaguest forewarning. There had been no half heard whispers in the night, no muttered rumours that were ripe for the picking. There was no nod of the head from a sly, untrustworthy daemon informant, no careless bragging or baiting from creatures facing their imminent demise at the hands of a Hunter. The city of Springfield, Missouri, was an open door. Unknowing. Unprepared. Undefended.

Demonstrating a breathtaking and dramatic change in behaviours, tactics and alliances, daemons, ghouls, skin-walkers, djinn, windigoag and a catalogue of other assorted supernatural beings had appeared on the city sidewalks in groups. Working together, their invasion had begun during the daylight hours. Come the hours of darkness the invaders numbers increased, swelled by vampires and other night walkers. The monsters crept, crawled, stalked and raced along Springfield's main streets. Yelling, howling, snarling and screeching, they had flooded into the town's centre. They forced their way into shops, offices and bars, wrecking and killing wantonly. In the residential areas they broke into people's homes at random, slaughtering any occupants. Neighbours cowered in their basements and lofts, terrified, listening to the death screams of the people next door, and praying the monsters wouldn't swarm into their home next.

The local law enforcement officers responded quickly and did their best, including requisitioning reinforcements via the state police, however, they were hindered by their lack of knowledge and experience of the enemy. An urgent call for help was also put out by two Hunters, an Uncle and his nephew who lived in Springfield. Every other Hunter who was able to do so had answered, all heading towards the area at breakneck speeds. Until help arrived, both the official and unofficial, the Uncle and nephew had focused on lending their skills and expertise to the police, assisting and directing them in trying to defend and protect by whatever means they could.

Hunters working cases close by responded swiftly, amongst them were Sam and Dean Winchester. They were followed fairly soon after by an all female group of Hunters out of Sioux Falls. The group was led by Jodie Miller, who's own status as Sheriff in Sioux Falls' along with that of her friend and fellow Hunter, the Sheriff of Stillwater, Donna Hanscum, gave them both credence amongst their Springfield police colleagues.

Every Hunter arrived armed and ready to do what was necessary, getting to work immediately. As determined and ferocious as any monster, none of them gave any quarter as they fought to drive the enemy back into either Hell fire or oblivion. They utilised every weapon available to them, physical and magical, mundane and specialist, righteous and ritualistic, during what the Whitehouse chose to refer to afterwards as three days of 'civil rioting'.

On the second day of the 'riot', the president had sent in the National Guard, supposedly to gain control over the situation, identify the ring leaders, and instigate a 'catch or kill' protocol. Ignorant of what they were up against, they immediately found themselves on the wrong end of a slaughter, only gaining ground after their commanding officer grudgingly accepted the input and advice of the civilians who referred to themselves _Hunters_.

The city of Springfield unintentionally played host to one of the largest known gatherings of Hunters ever to fight together in one place. It was the kinds of weapons, the tactics, and the fact that they rapidly began to score some wins, that had both the general public and those with more specific interests, noticing them. Used to operating below the radar, the Hunters were uncomfortable at having to openly battle the supernatural within full view of anyone who had a few seconds to spare from frantically running for their lives. And it wasn't just the people stuck at Ground Zero who were witness to the Hunters in action, millions more people watched the shocking events taking place in Springfield live, either on-line or via their TV's.

At the onset of the attack the human losses were frighteningly high, only reducing as the numbers of Hunters joining the fight increased, diverting the monsters' attentions. The Hunter community suffered their share of loss and injury. All the human wounded were triaged in a hastily erected tent within the hospital grounds where, if possible, they received basic treatment before re-joining the battle. The more seriously injured were admitted and cared for within the hospital on a ward re-designated from it's normal use as men's day surgery. A section within the hospital staff's basement car park, where the air was cooler, became a makeshift morgue. In the days following the battle, from the human combatants who had lost their lives, the Hunters collected and took care of their own; ensuring their fallen comrades received a Hunter's funeral.

The battle had eventually ended in a hard won human victory. An unprecedented and way too public victory as far as the Hunter community was concerned and, sure enough, as people began to think straight again their interest switched, to the question of _Who, or what, are these Hunters?_

Discovering that they had become the subject of a media frenzy was also no great surprise to the Hunters. One of their number was needed to face the trial of being interviewed on a once popular current affairs show. The media spokes-person nominations were counted and the results announced. It turned out that the greater majority had gleefully elected to dump the role and, therefore, the TV interview, onto the shoulders of one currently _extremely_ tense and _very_ unhappy, Dean Winchester.

-oOo-

There you go Sis, hope it's got you interested. Love as always, H. xxxxxx  
 _To anyone else reading : **Thank you.** Chap 2 out soon. Reviews and comments appreciated as always. Chick xxx_


	2. Chapter 2

_Big 'Hello' to those who are following, have favourited (already!) and reviewed this fic._  
 _I'm sure my big sis won't mind sharing. :D Chick xx  
_ Chapter 2  
-oOo-

"Sam? Be honest."  
"It's fine Dean. _Really_. You can't even tell. She's done a very... _Subtle_ job."  
Sat waiting for the hair stylist now that the makeup woman had finished touching him up, Dean continued to stare worriedly at his reflection in the mirror.  
"What's the point then? If you can't tell, why'd she bother smearin' this crap over me in the first place? It's gross. Gross an' stupid! The whole thing's stupid...An' I _feel_ stupid!"  
Sam did his best to appear sympathetic.  
"If it helps, I swear you don't _look_ stupid."

A female voice broke into the conversation, diverting Dean from continuing with his griping.  
"Hi there. Mr Winchester I presume? My name's Paula, I'm here for your hair."  
Dean threw Paula a narrow eyed glare.  
"There's nothin' wrong with my hair lady. You lookin' for someone to work on, work on _him._ I'll even hold him down for you."  
Paula grinned.  
"Sorry handsome. It's _you_ the cameras are gonna be pointed at. I'll try to make it painless, promise...Now, let me have a look at you...Hmmmm...Ok. Let's try this. I want you to close your eyes for me, picture yourself then, keepin' your eyes closed, describe your usual style to me."  
"Huh?"  
"Humour me sweetie. Pretty please?"  
After a swift warning glance in the mirror at his younger brother who was lounging in a luridly coloured armchair behind Dean and grinning widely, Dean closed his eyes with a groan of resignation and pointed a finger vaguely at his forehead.  
"Whatever...So, this' the front part. It sticks up mostly, I think. But some days it goes more sorta sideways? Uh, that way. Everywhere else is short...Um... _Oh,_ yeah. You can see my ears."

Hearing a snort of laughter, Dean opened his eyes to glare at Sam. The stylist's hand reached for the front of Dean's hair, he ducked. She tried again, Dean avoided her, jerking his head to the side. His gaze met hers, challenging her. Paula sighed. Years of experience had taught her to quickly recognise when it was best to back off and leave well alone. This was very much one of those times.  
"Ok. You know what cupcake? I think you'll do just fine as you are. I'll let them know down in wardrobe we're all done here. Don't move from here, they'll send somebody up to get you shortly."

The moment Paula left, Dean tugged the towel off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as he whirled his chair around to face his brother.  
"I can't do this Sammy. I can't...You're just gonna have to stand in for me bro."  
Startled, Sam raised both hands as if to fend Dean off and shook his head.  
"Whoa! _No_! On TV? No _way_ man. It's not _me_ got nominated!"  
"An' I never _asked_ to be nominated, but here I am _._ Royally _screwed._ C'mon dude, you'll be _way_ better at this shit than me, we both know it."  
"Sorry Dean. You agreed to the process along with ev'rybody else, an' you were happy enough to write somebody _else's_ name down. Plain fact is, big brother, you got most nominations by a _mile_. Face it Dean, you're always puttin' yourself in charge, an' I guess everybody knows how much you like to talk so, no surprise you got nominated."  
Dean's eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
"Who'd _you_ nominate, _little brother_?"  
Sam refused to be swayed by Dean's tone.  
"Secret ballot dude. You _do_ get what secret means?"  
"You _do_ know I hate you?"  
"Hey, if that's what it takes."

The brothers' exchange was interrupted by the appearance of a tall, slender male wearing denims and a tee that had to have been spray painted onto him that morning, his feet were adorned by a pair of scarlet and green tartan patterned boots.  
"Well! Hello picture perfect! I'm Jason and I'm looking for a Mr Dean Winchester, but really? I'll take either one of you handsome pair. So, kill my curiosity; which one of you's my boy?"  
Jason led the brothers into a room full of rails hung with clothing and a number of movable full length mirrors. Sat at a table were another 30-something man and an older woman, each in front of a sewing machine. Near them were three dress maker's dummies wearing partially completed outfits.  
"That's Gary and Elaine. Guys? Say hi to Dean, our victim for today, and his equally gorgeous brother, Sam."  
Gary smiled a greeting, while Elaine's eyes lit up and she beamed.  
"Oh Hell! My day just brightened up a _whole_ lot! Either of you tall an' handsomes want coffee?"

Enjoying himself immensely, Sam sat in a tatty chair, one of three positioned round an equally beaten up coffee table, sipping his coffee and watching Jason and Elaine walk around his brother, looking him up and down thoughtfully. Distastefully, Jason took hold of the collar of Dean's plaid between his thumb and forefinger.  
" _This_ has to go! Agreed?"  
Elaine nodded.  
" _Definitely_! In fact, I'm thinkin' we should try the silk Armani; that beautiful dark green one? It should really bring out his eyes."  
"Ooo yes. Girl, I'm loving it already! We'll lose the tee as well, see how he looks if we leave the collar unbuttoned on the shirt...We don't want to make him look all stiff, if you'll pardon the phrase? I'm thinking I'd like to see the shirt teamed with light coloured pants. Ideally something that fits snug around the hips and the butt. We really don't want to hide _that_ away! And what about those thighs? My. Has someone turned the heating up in here? Be still my pounding heart!"  
Sam spluttered over his drink while Dean stood motionless, his eyes tightly closed while he tried desperately to pretend he was somewhere else. This was a freakin' _nightmare_!

-oOo-  
Chick xxx - More soon.  
 _Q. How many reviewers does it take to change a light bulb?_  
 _Answer : Oh, many, many many, more many, and lots. **;p**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi again and to those who're sticking with this, BIG thanks.  
_ _Also, just so's you know, with tweaks before posting each  
_ _chapter, the story will end up being around 11k or so words. Chick xx  
_ Chapter 3  
-oOo-

Escorting the brothers to the recording studio, Elaine ushered them inside, directing them to stay put in the semi-darkness on the fringe of all the activity while she went to make their presence known. Dean gazed around the low lit, spacious studio area. Ignoring the various technicians, camera operators and other sundry people who milled around looking busy; his eyes were drawn to the one brightly lit area. He swallowed hard at the sight of a raised and carpeted stage surmounted by a square glass top coffee table to one side of which was a leather three seat sofa. On the opposite side and facing the sofa was a leather high backed chair, in which sat the programme's host who was conversing over a clipboard with a casually dressed female. Following his brother's fixed gaze, Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder.  
"Hey. You good?"  
Dean turned, giving Sam a blank look.  
"Ecstatic."  
Elaine's reappearance provided a well timed diversion.  
"Right, they know you're here and they'll let you know when they need you. Watch your footing on the wires when you move. I'm heading back now but it's been a pleasure. _Really_."

As soon as Elaine exited the studio, Dean started dragging the silk shirt out from where it had been neatly tucked into his pants by a keenly helpful Jason, while Sam began showering him with advice'  
"Listen Dean; when you're bein' interviewed? Try an' remember Hunters are the _good_ guys, so don't start glarin' or snarlin' at the interviewer, got that? Keep remindin' yourself, s'ok to debate, but don't start arguin'. Also, no cussin'. An' you should try to look straight into the camera every time you talk about savin' people an' helpin' them. _Oh_ , an' don't forget about...  
"Sammy, _stop!_...Y'know, there's still time for you to step in, seein' how you obviously know all about this kinda shit already? I mean, c'mon. What if the interviewer's some dumbass dick? What if he seriously _needs_ a smack in the teeth? I ain't no diplomat Sam."  
"Well, I guess now's the time to change your habits...They're wavin' you over...Hey, Dean? Break a leg!"  
"Why would you...? Oh, I gedditt. Right. Um, thanks."

Dean nervously walked across to the pretty young woman he'd seen speaking to the show's host. Still clutching her clipboard, she stuck her hand out to Dean.  
"I'm Cheryl, pleasure to meet you Dean. The programme's about to go live in a couple of minutes. Pete's gonna talk about the battle an' how that brought Hunters to everybody's attention, then there'll be a short video clip. He'll introduce you after that, ok? When he invites you, walk on set, shake hands with him an' sit down. From then on it's over to you an' Pete. We've allotted seven minutes of you two talkin'. Don't sound long, but believe me, it'll feel like forever! After that there'll probably be an ad. break an' afterwards we're going to connect live with a local community leader and a Whitehouse rep for a four way debate. Don't worry about it, just be yourself an' I'm sure everythin'll be fine...Ah! Here we go, countdown's started. Break a leg!"  
Dean looked around for his brother, needing the reassurance of knowing Sam was there. Smiling, Sam gave him a nod and a thumbs up as the show's theme music started up. Turning away again, Dean began to feet distinctly sick.

"Good evening all you lovely people! I'm Peter Taylor and tonight this programme is coming to you _live._ We are devoting it exclusively to finding out more about the mysterious community of 'Hunters' who made their debut during the recent appalling civil riot which turned a large section of Springfield, Missouri, into a battleground. We now know that, horrifyingly, many innocent people lost their lives, both young and old, some being torn asunder like paper...Hunters are the men, and even _women_ , who claim to have been secretly keeping the rest of us safe from all things 'supernatural', that's vampires, werewolves and such like to you an me, for centuries. This programme also learned that these individuals allegedly _choose_ to become Hunters, and for many different reasons, _voluntarily_ devoting their lives to allegedly fighting the creatures of the night. Astonishingly, it has even been claimed that this whole planet...Yes, I said this _planet_ , has been saved from total destruction on at _least_ one occasion by Hunters! Possibly even more astonishingly folks, these people apparently do all this for nothing!...That's right folks, you heard me...If you believe them, they get _no_ reward of any kind. That's no pay, no medals, no financial backing, just the satisfaction of killing monsters and 'Saving people' Worryingly, the Whitehouse officially states that no-one had any knowledge of these people and their activities!...And so, ladies and gentlemen, the very serious question I am seeking an answer to tonight on your behalf is...Hunters!...Heroes? Or a gang of dangerous hoaxers?...Welcome to 'Peter Taylor Asks.'...Now. In a short while I will be joined by the Hunter community's nominated spokesman, Mr Dean Winchester, himself a Hunter most of his life. But first. Let's remind ourselves of the tragic events which occurred so recently in Springfield. _Please_ , I must warn you all that the following amateur footage contains some _extremely_ distressing scenes and those viewers of a more sensitive nature may wish not to watch."

Cheryl directed Dean's attention to a PC monitor where he could follow what the show's viewers were seeing. The opening shot was a half shadowed, stuttering image of a ghoul using it's teeth to tear chunks out of the calf of a screaming man face down on the ground, then swallowing the hunks of flesh and muscle greedily, the image switched to night-time and a silent female being ravenously drained by two vamps, one on either side of her. A man ran into shot, firing a bolt from a pistol crossbow into the chest of one of the vamps and, when the second vamp let their victim collapse in an unmoving heap to run at him, the guy was shown suddenly drawing a sword with which he efficiently decapitated the charging vamp. The recording continued, showing the man kneeling to check the woman's pulse, abandoning her body and racing off in response to the sounds of other voices screaming and bellowing for help.

A screeching mother was seen trying to wrangle her baby back off a laughing daemon, appearing in it's true, grotesque, form. The thing was enjoying tormenting the frantic woman, holding the limp child by one leg and dangling it just beyond the mother's reach. Dean suddenly saw a familiar figure appear behind the daemon, then the daemon reacting to being stabbed in the back and Sam catching the child, cradling it in one arm and wrapping his other arm around the hysterical woman before hauling her off somewhere. Dean made a mental note to check with Sam whether the baby survived. The last images were wobbly footage of men and women fighting other people hand to hand, the trails of smoke curling out of the mouths of the few who went down identifying them to Dean as daemons wearing their meat suits.

-oOo-  
Everybody keeping up? ;P Chick xxxxx


	4. Chapter 4

_I Know! I'm sorry! Little sister needing support and going away  
_ _interfering, so here's another two chapters and hoping to get a third  
_ _one up today and another tomorrow to try making it up to you :(  
_ Chapter 4  
-oOo-

The camera went in for a close up on the face of the programme host who, for a second or two, stared seriously and in silence directly into the camera. Finally, he spoke, his voice subdued and sombre initially.  
"All of us here at 'Peter Taylor Asks' want the good people of Springfield to know, you are in our thoughts and prayers...Now. I think it's time I invited my guest on tonight's programme, Mr Dean Winchester, long time member of the Hunter community, to take a seat and talk to us."  
The host rose from his seat and looked towards where Dean stood, off camera.  
"Mr Winchester. Would you kindly come and join me?"

Cheryl gave Dean a sharp shove to get him moving, and suddenly he was in the spotlight, quite literally, with a camera tracking him as he walked towards the show's host. Pete was surprised to see the good looking, tall and well presented man who moved to join him on the podium. The guy was the polar opposite of Pete's expectations. He had once heard his wife screaming with laughter and, on looking in on her, had found her watching a yelling, shouting, bumbling and frankly inept gaggle of old bearded Hillbillies, a morbidly obese younger male and a gabbling madman all freaked out to the point of incontinence and pointing guns upwards in different directions, because they'd heard a rustle in the forest undergrowth. The man who automatically accepted Pete's outstretched hand and shook it before sitting down at one end of the sofa, legs crossing and uncrossing uncertainly, was a different breed entirely. Always poised and confident, the host settled himself into his high back chair and gave his guest a friendly smile.  
"First, let me thank you for agreeing to come on the programme to speak to me and the viewers at home Mr Winchester. Or may I call you Dean?"  
"Sure."  
"Great. So...Dean...Would you care to make any comment on the footage we've just seen?"  
Dean gazed at the floor briefly before answering.  
"Um, yeah, I guess. I believe, that is, the other Hunters an' me, we believe we owe Springfield a heartfelt apology."

Remembering Sam's instructions, Dean turned his head and looked directly into the camera he assumed was currently trained on him. Taking a deep breath, he internally reassured himself; _Here goes_. _Keep calm Winchester_. _You got this_. Pete's mind was racing, filling with possibilities. Was his guest about to confess, live, that the whole event was a hoax gone wrong? Or that the events had been part of some elaborate plan that allowed him and his comrades to commit mass murder? And if the guy _did_ confess to murder, could he keep Winchester talking till the police arrived? Would they be able to get the good looking man's arrest on camera?  
Dean paused briefly before he continued, allowing his normal emotional shutters to drop away, letting his sincerity and his sadness show in his eyes as he spoke his truths.  
"On behalf of myself an' all the other Hunters who fought to defend Springfield, I wanna say how truly sorry we are that we didn't manage to save everybody."

Suddenly finding himself streaming a crisp, clear image of the guest's ear to the show's viewers, the camera operator who was currently focused on Dean swiftly handed over to his colleague manning the camera Dean had turned to. Oblivious to the mistake, Dean went on with his apology.  
"It's on _us_ that people died, that whole families were wiped out, that kids lost their parents and that children...Children were killed...We just couldn't get to everyone in time to protect them all...I wanna apologise to the many people who were left wounded and hurt, to those who have been left with permanent injuries an' scars. An' I'm sorry for the people who're carryin' scars we can't see, scars on the inside, in their hearts an' memories...I _seriously_ wish we'd had the chance, _any_ chance at all, to keep the whole da...darn thing from ever happenin', but we didn't...No Hunter, _none_ of us, got even the smallest sniff this attack was comin'...So we, that's _all_ Hunters, need to apologise for not bein' able to step in an' end it before it even started... An' I wanna apologise to everybody _everywhere._ This world's changed for all of you out there an' I'm sorry for the sleepless night's you'll likely have for a while, 'cos now you know... _Monsters_ are _real_!"

Dean, and the camera, turned back to the show's host, catching him with the tumbler of whiskey he usually kept off camera held to his lips. Swallowing quickly he kept his line of sight focusing on the camera, while trying to put the tumbler down. Ignoring the fact that he managed to miss the table, Pete simply let the glass drop to the carpeted floor.  
" _Well_! Um, my goodness! Let's see. How do I follow _that_ folks? I'm sure I'm right, Dean, when I say every single person watching will have found that very... _Heartfelt_. Emotional; _moving_ even."  
Heartfelt and moving had it's place, but that alone wouldn't wow the critics. Time to put some _Pete Heat_ onto this pretty boy those self appointed guardians of the planet had seen fit to send him as their spokesman.

"Dean, I'm interested in your admission that not one supposedly skilled killer and self-proclaimed monster expert knew the attack was coming; including yourself. What I want to know is, if you and the rest of your gang of outlaws are even half as proficient and competent as you all claim to be... _Why the Hell not_?"  
A little taken aback by the interviewer's bluntness and change of tone, Dean never-the-less answered as evenly and as honestly as he could.  
"Because there were no clues for any of us to pick up on. Nothin' to give us a heads up beforehand."  
" _Really_?...Nothing at all? I'm astonished to hear that! No signs at all that a city, a whole _city_ , was about to come under attack?...I'm sorry Dean, but I find that very hard to believe. How about you explain it in more detail to me and the viewers?"  
Dean's tone didn't alter.  
"Ok. How about oversight.? The bad guys were maybe too busy to remember to text us in advance?"

Standing some way behind the cameras, Sam groaned.  
"Dean! No. Keep it cool dude."  
Cheryl glanced over at him, then stared, before hurrying off set and straight into the control room, where the director sat over-seeing everything.  
" _Erik!_ The guy in the footage? The bit with the baby? He's here, _on set_! He came in with Dean!"

The director stared hopefully at Cheryl.  
"You _sure_ it's the same guy?"  
"Positive, _one hundred percent_."  
Erik grinned broadly.  
"Oh man, pure gold! Get your ass back out there an' make sure you're ready to shove him on stage when Pete announces him."  
Cheryl looked uncertain.  
"What if he says 'No'?"  
"Did I say give him an option? Get out there an' get ready...Make like your job depends on it."  
Cheryl's expression turned to one of shock.  
"You wouldn't?"  
The director gazed back at her impassively and said nothing, letting the woman come to her own conclusion.  
"But...But...The guy's _huge_ , like _real_ tall. I might not be able to budge him."  
"I've every faith in you. If necessary, just grab him by the balls, an' the rest'll soon follow."

Eric watched as Cheryl left, feeling bad about letting her believe he might fire her. Turning back to his monitor, he gazed at the image of Peter Taylor who had no idea that his show was likely to be axed and who was currently baiting the Hunter by questioning the appropriateness of his humour. _Please make this one work Pete, it just might save all our jobs._

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
Hugs n' stuff.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
-oOo-

Determinedly re-focusing on the task which, for now, he still had, the director flicked a switch on the control panel which dominated the room and began talking rapidly into his mike.  
"Code red, everybody listen up 'cos this' big. We're goin' for a fast schedule change. Pete? I _swear_ you're gonna love this. We've found you a second guest. That Hunter in the baby clip? The one rescuin' it along with it's mother? He's _here_ Pete; in the studio! Sorry, not got his name but he's definitely another Hunter type. Soon as you've a space, give me an intro an' Cheryl's gonna shove him your way, I'll delay the Whitehouse rep an' the community leader. Nod once if you got this."

Pete acknowledged the director's message while maintaining his attention on his now frowning guest, readying himself to reel the Hunter in.  
"You're right, my bad. I'm afraid dark humour almost becomes instinctive, like a survival technique, a way of gettin' you through another night facin' off against some monster or other who wants to chow down on you."  
Sam grinned, seeing a flicker of disappointment flash over the host's face when Dean apologised instead of rising to his baiting.  
"Nice imagery Dean. Allow me to re-phrase my previous question. I'm extremely surprised to hear that your organisation was completely unaware of the impending attack. Surely you have spies placed within each of the various um, _opposition groups?_ Don't you?"

Dean's demeanour changed. He managed to sit up straighter on the sofa while at the same time his overall posture appeared to relax, all prior traces of nervousness in front of the cameras dissipated, something in his eyes hardened and he fixed the host with a steady gaze, causing Pete to have to fight against the sudden urge to look away.  
"First, there _ain't_ no 'organisation'. Huntin's a life style some individuals take up or slip into one way or another. Second. For one of us to successfully infiltrate a group of say, ghouls, that person could only stay undetected if he or she _was_ a ghoul. You only get to join a nest of vamps if you _are_ a vamp. An' to be on the inside, spyin' on daemons? Well, assumin' they don't smell your humanity _and_ don't notice the lack of true daemon form, then you'd have to go live with 'em in Hell, where even daemons themselves have it rough...You startin' to get the picture, _Pete_?"  
Pete was now sat bolt upright in his seat, his eyes wide. Watching from the sidelines, Sam had his mouth covered with one hand, as if acting out his strong desire to stride over and stuff one of Dean's own socks into his older brother's mouth.

Pete's excitement overcame everything else he had been feeling and he heard himself stumble over his words.  
"Wh...What? You're telling me Daemons really do come from _Hell_? Are you _seriously_ referring to _thee_ Hell? Out of the Bible Hell? Fire and brimstone Hell? The actual 'go there when you die if you've been bad' Hell? The one with the Devil in it?...Are you Dean? I mean, _really_?...Dean? _Answer_ me!"  
Extracting his metaphorical foot out of his mouth, Dean answered the astonished and eager interviewer quietly.  
"Um, I guess so, yeah. _That_ Hell...Where you might say 'goin' down' would be the _least_ of your worries! Ha ha."

Staggered, Pete stared unseeing down at the floor, oblivious to Dean's poor attempt to joke his way out of his verbal slip. It occurred to the host that, whatever way tonight's programme ended, it was highly likely that this episode of his show was the one that would garner him a whole pile of awards. After months of dwindling viewer numbers and being stuck with irrelevant, lightweight topics, it seemed he'd finally hit gold! And right about now he was supposed to welcome this other guest, the guy seen on the Springfield footage 'rescuing' a mother and baby. Pete decided he needed a moment to centre himself. He looked into the camera.  
"People, we're going to take a short break now while our sponsors babble on about their new household products, if you still care about that kind of stuff? But, we _will_ return to this _extended_ live episode of 'Peter Taylor Asks'...You might want to take this opportunity to call everybody you know and tell them to tune in...This' Peter Taylor saying TTFN."

The instant they were off air Pete slumped back in his chair, steepled his fingers, and contemplated his prize catch while trying to control his breathing. Regretting mentioning Hell and uncomfortable under the interviewer's intense, silent scrutiny, Dean looked around for his brother, spotting him having what looked to be a fairly heated conversation with Cheryl.  
"Excuse me a moment."  
"Be ready to go again in three minutes. You and I got a conversation to finish."

Dean hurried over towards Sam and Cheryl, hearing Sam's strident voice as he got closer.  
"The answer's still _no_ , get over it. You wanted a Hunter to interview; we've given you Dean. _I'm_ not part of that package."  
Dean hesitated briefly, unhappy at the notion of having been 'given' to anyone, and not liking being equated with a 'package'. Storing it for later, he interrupted the pair.  
"Sammy? There a problem here?"  
Angry eyes still fixed on Cheryl, Sam answered.  
"No. No problem. They realised I was in some of the footage they showed, so now they 're wantin' to interview me as well. I've said no. End of story."  
Dean gave the frustrated and harassed looking woman a friendly smile.  
"Cheryl? Would you give us a moment?"  
"Yeah, sure. I'll be just over there, chewin' on my clipboard!"

The moment Cheryl began to walk away, Sam rounded on his brother.  
"Don't tell me. You think I should've agreed?"  
Dean gave him an apologetic look.  
"No! Well. Kinda...Look Sam, I understand. I do, but...I could really use your backup, stop me doin' dumb things like mentionin' Hell!...Sammy?"  
Seeing the plea in Dean's gaze, Sam's shoulders slumped and he sighed.  
"Jeeze Dean! _Fine_. Ok. But I'm _not_ talkin' about that mom an' her baby. Alright?"  
Dean nodded, seeing one of the assistants signalling him to get back to his seat.  
"Ok bro'. Look, I gotta get back, you can give Cheryl the good news...An' Sam? Thanks, y'know?"  
"Sure. Now go, get yourself an' your snug fittin' pants back over there."  
Dean made it back on stage with a scant second to spare and wondering how to take back any mention of Hell?

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	6. Chapter 6

_That's three chapters in one day :D  
_ Chapter 6  
-oOo-

Peter Taylor hadn't looked as enthused and energised on camera as he did now for a long time. He listened to the Director counting down from three in his earpiece and then confirming 'You're on air.'

"Welcome back to this now _extended_ live episode of 'Peter Taylor Asks'. If you've just joined us, I'm speaking live with Mr Dean Winchester in a TV first. Dean is a self proclaimed monster hunter and is the official spokesperson for the Hunter community, who themselves chose this programme above all our rivals for their first formal TV interview. Now in case you missed it, or think you misheard it, prior to the break Dean here stated those monsters the Hunters call daemons live in _Hell_!...That's _thee_ Hell my friends! Not really news you might say, _but_... If we assume that Dean is neither insane or a liar, if we accept that the city of Springfield was attacked by _genuine_ monsters, _genuine_ daemons then we, _all_ of us, are also accepting that Hell _exists_ , that it is _real,_ for _all_ of us, irrespective of religious beliefs, or the lack of...Now obviously I _will_ re-visit this topic with Dean however, I have been informed that we have an unexpected but very special guest in the studio who is going to join myself and Dean."

Pete got to his feet to make the introduction.  
"In another exclusive to tonight's live edition of 'Peter Taylor Asks', I am delighted to have in the studio that heroic gentleman who we saw, in the horrifying footage shown earlier, racing to the aid of a distraught mother and her tiny baby, rescuing the baby from the clutches of some hideous creature. Sir...Please. Come join us."  
Shrugging off the irritating hairstylist who had appeared from nowhere and pounced, huffing and fretting over his hair from the moment he said 'yes' to Cheryl, Sam strode across and onto the podium. His walk, the tension in his shoulders, the defiant expression he wore all reflected Sam's displeasure at being on camera. He briefly shook the host's eagerly outstretched hand before sitting himself down next to Dean. Pretending he hadn't noticed his new guest's reluctance, Pete returned to his own seat and threw Sam a wide, friendly smile.  
"My goodness but you're tall! Sir, thank you for agreeing to join us at such very short notice. What might I call you?"

Pete caught the swift glance that his guests shared, and recognised instantly that these two weren't strangers. Experience told him that another golden eggshell was possibly about to crack open. He held his breath expectantly.  
"My name's Sam."  
Not satisfied, Pete gave Sam a verbal nudge.  
"Just Sam?"  
"No...Sam Winchester."

The atmosphere on set was suddenly electric as the floor staff connected the dots. In the control room, the director was punching the air and giggling with delight at the realisation that, unexpectedly, the two guests shared the same surname. Somehow, this pair were linked! A light began flashing on the internal phone in front of him, letting Erik know the CEO was on the line, waiting for him to answer.  
"Oh, _Hell_ yeah!"  
As far as Erik was concerned, things didn't get any better than this.

Pete stared at the tall man across from him, regretting dropping his glass of whiskey, he could really use a shot right now.  
" _Well_! How about that? I must say, it really is a pleasure to meet you Sam Winchester. Do you mind clarifying for myself and the viewers at home what, exactly, is the relationship between yourself and Dean?  
"Dean's my brother."

Pete wanted to laugh out loud, tap dance on the coffee table, give himself a hand job. This wasn't just gold, this was rapidly turning into pure platinum! Right here, right now, his status amongst his peers had just gone supernova! He carefully adjusted his position in his chair, suddenly feeling himself getting a hard on. His thoughts shifted to his young wife. _If she's forgotten to record this show, I'm so gonna make her take back the face I bought her!  
_ "You're _brothers_? Excellent! I'm _delighted_ to have the both of you on the show...Tell me, Sam, who's the eldest?"  
"Dean."  
"And is Dean a good big brother, or does he boss you around?"  
"Why's that relevant?"  
"Ah, staying silent on that one, I see. Do you mind telling us, do the both of you hunt together? Or do you prefer working as individuals Sam?"  
"Together."  
"Right. So, you and Dean are a team?"  
"Yes."

In the control room, still on the phone with the station CEO, Erik was overwhelmed and deliriously excited at the same time.  
"No sir, that won't be a problem...Yessir, I'll be sure to pass that onto my team...No Sir, Peter will be happy to keep goin'...Come again?... _Oh_!...I see...Really?... _Yessir,_ That's wonderful news sir! You won't regret it, I promise...No, I won't say a word. You can trust...On Monday?...Yessir, no problem...Thank you sir! It means a great..."

The connection was cut as the CEO hung up. Erik stared through the glass of the control room window at Pete and his two guests, and his lips curled in a wry smile. The CEO's plan to formally announce the axing of Pete's show during the coming week had, in the last ten minutes, undergone an extremely rapid review and, as a result, been shelved. Instead, Erik was to meet with the CEO to discuss extra funding and ideas for raising the show's profile. Erik's smile grew. He couldn't help thinking that tonight, without even realising it, these two Hunter brothers who spent their time helping people, had just managed to save the ass of every individual employed by the show. Including his own. The fact that he was the only member of the show's team to know made him feel ' _sort'a cool_.'

Pete recognised this Sam guy's type. He obviously didn't want to be in front of the cameras, and he didn't want to talk. More importantly, he _wouldn't_ talk if he was asked the burning question, that being, what happened to the mother and baby? Pete gave the younger man his most sincere, understanding smile. He was going to have to work at it to get Winchester the younger to engage. He felt his erection deflate.  
"Now Sam. We all saw your _heroic_ intervention on behalf of a mother and baby, rescuing them from, I must admit, one of the _ugliest_ darned things on two legs I've ever seen! What I want to know is..."  
Sam readied himself to refuse to answer the expected question.  
"If, as we've been told, that grotesque thing was a _daemon_ ; how can the average looking human smoke blowers have been daemons as well?"

His surprise at the question Pete asked caused Sam to hesitate, and Dean quickly took over.  
"Thing is Pete...I can call you Pete?"  
"Erm.."  
"Thing is Pete, daemons are supernatural creatures too, so they can have _abilities_ , like bein' able to appear human."  
No _way_ was Dean going to start talkin' about meat suits on TV.  
"I see. So, do Hunters have a special way of knowing when somebody's really a daemon in disguise?"  
Dean nodded.  
" _Christo_...Pete? You'll be happy to know I ain't gonna hunt you down an' kill you. Whatever else people might say about you, you're _not_ a daemon."  
Caught off guard, Pete laughed uncertainly.  
"Well, I'm certainly glad about that...For all the folks watching at home, do you mind repeating that word you used?"  
"Christo."  
"And what happens when you say that to someone who _is_ really a daemon?"  
"You'll see their eyes flash completely black."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you so much for your kind comments and  
_ _reviews so far! I will respond to all of them. C. xxxx  
_ Chapter 7  
-oOo-

Pete winked at the camera.  
"There you go. You heard it here first folks, on 'Peter Taylor Asks'. If you've been wondering whether your nightmare neighbour might be a daemon? Just say the word _Christo_ and look for the eyes turning black...And staying with the topic of daemons. Dean...About Hell."  
The older Winchester's smile was still in place, but his gaze grew cold, his eyes seemed to darken. Pete stared. _Is that what he meant by the eyes turning black? No, he said completely black. Get a grip Taylor, it's just a change in the man's mood. Why? Has to be something about him and Hell. Paranoia? Delusional stuff? He's been on a day-trip? Need to stir the pot a little._

"You _are_ ok to talk more about Hell, aren't you Dean? Because I'm curious to know whether you yourself have ever had any personal experience? Maybe while hunting a daemon one time? I know if you have, then _everybody,_ me included, would be fascinated to hear how you managed to get down there, what your impressions were and, what you might have witnessed?"

Pete noted with interest how the younger brother's whole body had suddenly tensed up and his gaze instantly fixed on his older brother's profile. The smile on Dean's face had melted away, instead he looked... _Angry? Defensive? Afraid? All of the above? Whichever, I sure touched a nerve!  
_ "Dean?"  
"It exists. It's real."  
"And?"  
"An' nothin'. That's all there is."  
Pete hitched a disbelieving eyebrow. No way could he drop this, his viewers deserved more. Time to resurrect the old 'Punisher Pete' of his earlier career, when he still had a passion for what he did.

"That's all there is? Really Dean? Theology brought down to 'It's real'? _Come on_ both of you. _Fellahs!_ You're asking me and my viewers to trust that you and your pals, these so called Hunters, are genuine, that you're the good guys. You expect us to swallow all your fantastical claims about monsters and things that go bump in the night. My friend, it's gonna take more than 'It's real', so _talk_. Go on, convince me that Springfield _wasn't_ just some elaborate, complex, and frankly _twisted,_ hoax set up by the both of you and your equally degenerate, bloodthirsty and frankly wicked friends? A city was brought to a stand still...People actually _died. Real_ people were slaughtered. _Innocent_ people torn apart.. Young, old and, even _more_ horrifyingly; _children_! _Somebody_ has to be held responsible for this _atrocit_ y! So I'm sorry guys, but you gotta do a whole lot better than ' _It's real_ ' to convince me, the government, the authorities and, most of all, the American people, that _anything_ you say is true!...Or would it be closer to the truth to label you and all your thugs as nothin' more than sick, evil, murdering, _scum_?... _Well_?"

Through his ear piece, Pete could hear Erik whooping and hollering with joy at this sudden change of direction and pace. Pete himself felt rejuvenated, re-born, re-vitalised. For so long he hadn't dared to be so confrontational and challenging, always too afraid to take the risk. _Risk? Oh crap. What if this pair just get up and walk out? What then? What if they head straight round to another station? Shit!_ His gut's twisting in anxiety, but the expressions on his guests faces gave nothing away, no indication of their likely response to his blunt and stark accusations. The silence felt never-ending. Pete watched while the brothers seemed to hold some sort of silent conversation between themselves.

At last, Sam leaned his upper body towards the show's host, his expression deadly serious, his gaze penetrating. When he spoke, his voice was toneless, flat.  
"Thing is, Mr Taylor, most Hunters are scum...Take Dean an' me. We've not had a stable home base, an' I've lost track of the number of schools we were expected to fit into, sometimes for a week, very occasionally for a whole term. As little kids we spent more times than enough left alone without an adult bein' there to look out for us, or to make sure we were warm an' had food to eat. An' I'm talkin' about bein' left for days at a time My brother an' me have spent most of our lives since...Ever, on the road, always on the move, livin' an' sleepin' in the car whatever the weather or, if we've been lucky, in real cheap slum motels. Places where even the cockroaches showered daily to get rid of the grime an' filth they'd had to crawl through. Believe me, Huntin's a rough, hard life, not one that lends itself to havin' a relationship, or kids...An just so's we're clear? It's also expected to be a short life.. Every Hunter knows it, an' we accept it, an' carry on doin' the job, savin' as many people as we can before our time's up. So yeah, we're scum. But, Mr Taylor, you've not earned the right to call us evil, or twisted, or sick, or murderers or an' anything else...Not till _you_ can say you're honestly prepared to die savin' a stranger you know nothin' about, simply 'cos they're human...Believe it or not Mr Taylor, but all Hunters have their rules, their standards, an' lines they hope never to hav'ta cross. Dean an' me? We don't kill humans...No matter how much some might deserve it. We're not murderers, not the way you used the word. An' the footage you showed? That's no 'twisted hoax'. Those recordin's were made by the people of Springfield, as proof of what they experienced if they survived, or as evidence if they didn't. Those _monsters_ are _real_. What they did to their victims is _real_. People died for _real,_ an' yeah that included children...But no human died at the hands of a Hunter. Scum we might be, but we only killed the monsters themselves."

Feeling slightly punch drunk, Pete wasn't given the chance to draw breath before Dean mirrored his brother's posture and took up the baton.  
"An as for Hell? What can I say? It is what it is. Try usin' your imagination Pete. Picture the most twisted, perverse, agonisin' tortures you can, an' I _guarantee_ , you won't get anywhere _close_ to the horror of what happens to the souls who end up downstairs...Repeatedly...For all eternity. Here's somethin' for you an' your viewers to consider...If you believe you can do whatever you want while you're alive, provided you say 'Oops, sorry! Forgive me'? You got it badly wrong! It just don't work that way. An' it don't come down to 'good or bad, nasty or nice'. It's _waaay_ more complicated an' tangled up than _that._ The souls of some really _good_ people, _faithful_ people, _innocent_ people have _still_ ended up stuck downstairs an' screamin' right alongside the evil bastards an' wrong doers. Oh, an' just in case you ever plan on makin' a deal with Hell 'cos there's somethin' you think you want? Think again. 'Cos when it's time to pay up? Hardly _anyone_ thinks the deal was worth it once they're facin' the things that come to collect...Hell's like a Casino really, only with no gamblin', or alcohol, or hot croupiers. There's just this...The House _always_ wins."

Sam was watching the expressions marching across the face of the programme's host while his brother spoke about Hell. It was with genuine sympathy that Sam asked the man how he was doing.  
"Pete? You feelin' ok? You're look a little pale there man. You think maybe you should let the show's sponsors have another shot at persuadin' people to buy stuff?"

Pete didn't respond immediately, continuing to stare at Dean for a couple of long seconds before, finally, he blinked and shook his head as if to clear it before gazing around, looking for which camera to address.  
"Um...Sorry...Right...Yeah... _Ok_! Make certain not to move too far from your TV screens, viewers, as we'll be back right after the ads. Um...TTFN." As soon as they were off air, Pete looked towards the director's box and signalled with his hand to Erik that he wanted a longer ad break this time. Erik's voice came back to him.  
"You gottit Pete. Hey Pete? Doin' real good, tonight's show's a winner. Stay with it pal."

-oOo-  
Chick xxxxx  
 _Penultimate chapter up tomorrow :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_Only one more chapter to go after this...  
_ Chapter 8  
-oOo-

In the control room Erik's P.A. stared at the bank of flashing lights in front of her, each one indicating an external call being re-routed from the station's main number. Headset on, she nervously pressed the button beneath one of the flashing lights.  
"Hello, you're through to the Peter Taylor Asks show. Can I take your name and the reason for your call?...I see...Uh huh...Really?...Wow...Yeah, I _definitely_ will. Thank you. ... Hello, you're through to the Peter Taylor Asks show. Can I take your name and the reason for your...Oh, right...Uh-huh...Uh-huh...Ok...Uh-huh...Of course, no problem. Thank you for calling. ... Hello, you're through to..."

On and on it went. Seeing the volume of in-coming calls, two technicians quickly donned headsets and joined her, still they struggled to answer the increasing volume of calls being put through and further calls were rapidly backing up while the caller waited on hold. Curious, the P.A. opened up the station's web page on one of the crew's PC's. Next she checked the station's social media pages, then she turned to update her boss.  
"Erik? There's calls flooding in, they're almost all from people saying they've been either helped, protected, or even rescued by Hunters. There's lots identifying Sam and Dean, but there's others Hunters being named too, men _and_ women. They all insist Pete's guests are telling the truth. They're adamant monsters are real, and that Hunters are good people. The website and our social media pages are being flooded by messages and mail pretty much saying the same. It's brilliant, but the guys and me can't handle this volume of calls _and_ still do our jobs. We need extra people on the switch who can take and log calls directly. We need backup, and fast!"  
Erik gazed around the control room while he decided what to do. Finally he winked and grinned at his P.A.  
"Could you get me the CEO on the line Em.?"  
Emily nodded.  
"Absolutely."

Pete stared at the Hunters sat opposite him as he tried to slow down his racing thoughts while at the same time, attempting to ignore the awful churning in the pit of his stomach. It terrified him, but all his instincts told him that these two men were telling him the truth. Still he had to ask.  
"Look, we're off air, so between you and me, are you guys really for real? I mean, c'mon, monsters? Like vampires and daemons, ghouls and ghosts and whatever else. And Hell? Do they honestly, _genuinely_ exist?"

Sam smiled at the host sadly.  
"They got together an' they came out to play in the open, forcing Hunters to become visible as well. The live captures made at Springfield called it 'the new way'. The more intelligent supernatural species are comin' out of the dark in a direct challenge to humanity."  
Pete's eyes boggled at the mention of 'live captures'. Still listening to Sam, he instantly envisaged himself with exclusive access to the creatures and began mentally constructing the question he hoped would force his guests to repeat live on camera that the Hunters had living monsters held captive.  
"I'll give it a month, _tops_ , an' you won't need to ask Dean an me what's real anymore. You'll know."

Turning to one of the floor technicians, Pete mimed having a drink then focused back onto Sam and Dean, oblivious to the murmured conversations and activity amongst the studio crew, amongst which was the sound engineer, running checks and testing his equipment.  
"What's that likely to mean for you guys? How will the Hunters out there respond?"  
Sam glanced at his brother. Dean shrugged his shoulders before answering.  
"Who knows? Maybe we'll just keep a low profile, carry on fightin' like we do now? See, we're _not_ an army. Hunters don't work that way, we're all more like freelancers. Maybe there'll be more people decidin' to become Hunters? I _guarantee_ there'll be people an' groups who'll think they can dictate what Hunters should do, when we should do it, and how it should be done. Might even be the media who piles on the pressure? Much more likely it'll be some interferin' Government department that decides Hunters need organisin', need monitorin', or should be bound by centralised policies an' protocols. The President might even decide that an official department needs to be established to control us, make us answerable. Someone might even insist Hunters are licensed? Then there _will_ be all those douche's _callin'_ themselves Hunters, but who're really nothin' more than untrained, unskilled, no clue vigilantes an' gangsters. _Genuine_ Hunters could end up puttin' so much time into savin' _those_ jerkoff's, that the rest of Joe Public are left vulnerable an' unprotected. Worst thing would be to set out to control an' restrict Hunter's in their job to the point where we become damn near ineffective, an' pointless...It's another possibility I guess. So's tryin' to round up all Hunters, gettin' rid an' lettin' the armed forces, the _professionals_ , deal with the supernatural instead."

His fresh tumbler of whiskey having arrived, Pete raised it to his lips and downed it in single swallow.  
"Don't you think professional service personnel could handle it?"  
Sam gave a short, humourless, laugh.  
"I think that very quickly, monsters would be free to treat us humans like an _all-you-can-eat_ buffet."

Ignoring the instant shock and horror on the interviewer's face, Dean glanced at his watch.  
"An' speakin' of buffets Sammy, I'm _starvin_ '! I vote we call time on this an' go eat."  
The brothers both rose to their feet, clearly intending to leave. Shock turned to panic for Pete, which was compounded by Erik's voice unexpectedly coming into his ear babbling something about phone calls.  
"What're you thinkin' Dean? Sit down meal, or eatin' on the road? 'Cos personally, I could do with _real_ food."  
Dean grinned at Sam.  
"Comin' from you, that's an oxymoron, moron. Tell you what, if you're payin', an' provided it's not some kinda freak food joint? I'll go sit down."

Pete gaped up at the brothers while they discussed food then, as they began to walk away he surprised even himself when he yelled 'NO!' The brother's turned in unison, each looking at the host with a matching quizzical eyebrow.  
"I...I mean. _Please_. Don't go! Don't leave yet. I can have food brought to you, anything you want, just, please. _Stay_. Listen, people are contacting the show by phone and social media in their thousands, they're supporting you and the other Hunters. Guys, the public needs to hear more. Like...Like how best to keep themselves safe...Sam? Dean? This' _huge._ The station's already changed the whole of the channel's scheduling for tonight so we can keep going...You've _got_ to stay! You _have_ to!"

Nudging his brother, Dean inclined his head towards Pete.  
"There you go Sammy? What did I say? There'll be people who'll try dictatin' to us what, when and how we should do things"  
Sam nodded sagely.  
"Yup. That's definitely what you said Dean. But I'm sure Mr Taylor here didn't _mean_ to sound like he's dictatin', even _if_ nobody bothered to ask _us_ if we're ok to sit talkin' all night. An' even if we've already ended up stuck here for longer than they said, instead of bein' out there, doin' our job."  
Desperate and panic stricken, Pete eyed at the assistant director as she signalled the countdown to them being live on air again.  
"Guys, please? I'm _begging_ here!"  
Dean's face was solemn.  
"Sorry. Things are changin' for Sam an' me Pete, for all Hunters. We gotta get back to the family business, try to do as much good as we can _while_ we still can. Before people an' politicians achieve what the supernatural world couldn't, an' make it impossible for us to carry on."  
" _Two...One._ _And we're live_."

The cameras rolled and the programme was once again being streamed in real time to the highest viewing figures in the show's eight year history. For a while there was silence. The camera focused on the show's host sat motionless, a helpless look on his face as he stared at something off camera. It was almost two minutes before Peter Taylor at last followed the director's instructions being screamed into his ear, and turned to face the camera, his expression dumbfounded.

-oOo-  
 _Final chapter to be posted tomorrow :)  
_ _Huggles,_ Chick xxxx


	9. Chapter 9

_This' the last chapter and I want to say I'm seriously grateful  
_ _for all your amazing comments, they have been so encouraging_!  
 _Many, many thanks. Love, Chick xxxxxx  
_ Chapter 9  
 **EPILOGUE  
** **(** _ **Almost 10 months later)  
**_ -oOo-

That night's episode opened with a shot of Peter Taylor standing in silence and looking directly into the camera. His expression appeared to be a mixture of gravitas and anger. When he finally began to speak, the voice of the multi award winning programmes host was sombre and measured.  
"Thank you, my dear friends, for tuning into 'Peter Taylor Asks'. The scheduled show for tonight has, at very short notice, been cancelled and will now be aired at a later date; I hope you will accept my apology. Instead, this programme is being brought to you live from the studio where I am tasked with making a very important public information announcement. But before I do...I am certain that many of you will recall another live broadcast from this studio that took place almost ten months ago. On that occasion I interviewed two Hunters, brothers Sam and Dean Winchester who, along with many of their fellow Hunters, had bravely risked their own lives in order to defend the people of Springfield, Missouri, from a cowardly attack by multiple species of supernatural scum...I'd like to play for you part of a sound recording that happened to be made of a conversation which took place during an ad. break on that trail-blazing show. The person you are about to hear speaking is Dean Winchester, the older of the two brothers."

The camera remained on Pete while Dean's voice was played to the millions watching and listening. " _Things are changin' for Sam an' me Pete, for all Hunters. We gotta get back to the family business, try to do as much good as we can while we still can. Before people an' politicians achieve what the supernatural world couldn't, an' make it impossible for us to carry on."_ Pete Taylor's expression remained grim as the recording ended.

"Ladies and gentlemen; it is with a great deal of personal sadness that I, as instructed, must now make the following official public announcement...As of today, each and every Hunter of the supernatural is ordered to stand down and cease hunting activities _immediately._ It has been proposed and accepted that any individual found or suspected of supernatural hunting activities who are not formally a confirmed member of the new Joint Services Supernatural Task Force will be arrested and taken into police custody, where they will be charged under a new section within the civil disobedience act, for which the penalties are severe. Any member of the public who has concerns about or is the victim of any supernatural incident should report such incidents using the 911 service, who will take details and, if appropriate, alert the Supernatural Task Force's emergency response unit...I have been advised by officials that all known contact numbers for individuals who were part of the now banned Hunter community are no longer active...That is the end of the formal announcement. Once again viewers, you heard it here first...The remainder of tonight's show is now devoted to looking at the structure, role and powers given to this government's newest task force and emergency service. As always, we here at the studio would welcome your thoughts and comments. Details of how you can air your views will be scrolling at the bottom of your screens throughout the rest of the programme. _Please_ , tell us know how you feel."

The black car turned into the half full, dimly lit car park of an out-of-the-way and dilapidated looking biker's bar. Pulling up, the driver turned to his taller, longer haired companion.  
"For the last time, are you _sure_ about this Sam? I can still turn my baby around and drive us both away from here, all you gotta do is say."  
For a moment, Sam gazed in silence through the passenger side window at the closed entrance door to the bar. Turning his head to look at his older brother, Sam smiled.  
"And for the last time Dean, _yeah,_ I'm absolutely sure. This' you an' me bro', it's who we're meant to be...Who we _are..._ An' I'm cool with that. I _am._ "  
Dean gave a brief nod of his head.  
"Alright then. Awesome. So let's go scope the place an' if our intel. checks out, we gank every single one of these fugly blood sucker's. No survivors. You good to go?"  
Sam grinned. It felt like a lifetime, _two l_ ifetimes, since he'd heard his brother talk that way, it sounded good, sounded familiar, sounded right.  
"Yup, I'm good."

Dean lifted the false bottom in the Impala's trunk and the brothers each contemplated the weapons they had with them. Swaying sideways, Dean casually bumped his younger brother.  
"Do you feel it Sammy?"  
"What? You bumpin' me?  
"No, Dumbo...Try this. I'm thinkin' the Whitehouse lame-brains have unintentionally done us a favour, settin' up their dumb-ass task force, criminalizin' Hunters. It kind'a feels like we're back in the good old days? Hunters workin' completely off the grid, all of us pickin' out our own cases, keepin' our heads down, stayin' away from Joe Public an' the cops, always on the move, folks not knowin' we exist, neither Heaven or Hell tryin' to play us anymore 'cos now they both just want us dead...An' I know this might sound weird, but it feels good...Like things're back how they should be, y'know?"

Sam met his brother's gaze.  
"Yeah...I get that. The job's feels like it was, back in the day...Is that gonna be enough for you though Dean? I mean, after everythin' we've done? What we've seen? What we know?"  
Dean's smile was soft.  
"The job's finally got everythin' I ever wanted Sammy. You an' me together. Huntin' together, a team, lookin' out for one another, hittin' the road together, my baby brother an' me."  
"Um, _and_ Cas."  
Dean shrugged.  
"Well, yeah. But he's family too, so it's all good... _Right_. Can't stand here passin' wind all night. Arm yourself, we got us a job to do, bitch!"  
Grinning happily, Sam reached into the well stocked trunk.  
"Right here beside you, let's go party...Jerk."

 **END**  
-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
 _Thank you so much for reading_.


End file.
